


(The Obvious Fact That) Scars Remain (And How To Cope With It)

by amethyst-noir (Arbonne)



Series: Ironstrange Bingo 2020 Collection (Round 2) [4]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Caretaking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Exhaustion, Hurt Stephen Strange, IronStrange Bingo 2020, M/M, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23068849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbonne/pseuds/amethyst-noir
Summary: All things considered the reporter’s question had been rather harmless, really. There was no reason, apart from exhaustion, for his rage or the new wave of self-hatred that threatened to engulf him whenever he caught a glimpse of his own hands or let himself consciously feel the permanent ache in them.(Everyone has a breaking point, even Stephen Strange. Thankfully, he has Tony to catch him when the inevitable happens.)
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Series: Ironstrange Bingo 2020 Collection (Round 2) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636018
Comments: 14
Kudos: 198
Collections: IronStrange Bingo 2020





	(The Obvious Fact That) Scars Remain (And How To Cope With It)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the overlong title but it just _fits_. Thank you, Wolfsheim, for inspiring me since 1998.
> 
> @ironstrangebingo Round 2: _Scars_

"Damnit, Stephen! You should have let me blast him into the mirage dimension!" Tony exploded the moment the door to the Sanctum had closed behind them, just as Stephen had known he would.

"Mirror," Stephen corrected absently, still staring down at his hands. His scarred, shaking, fucking useless hands that had just dragged an infuriated Tony off a careless reporter. Hands that couldn't even hold a cup of coffee anymore, let alone a scalpel, couldn't take a book from a shelf without magic, couldn't even hold the hand of the man he loved. "Stupid, useless, failure," he whispered, not even trying to hold back the tears that had threatened since the moment the stupid paparazzo had asked Tony how hard it was to have a boyfriend who had fallen so far from grace that he couldn't even hold hands with him anymore.

"Stephen?" Anger had quickly turned to worry as Tony crouched down in front of him. "Baby? What's going on? Shit, don't tell me you took that asshole seriously?" Stephen just lowered his head even more and stared at his hands with an extra portion of disgust. "Fuck, you did. Hey, sweetheart, look at me. Please."

He wanted to, he really didn't. He didn't like denying Tony but right now he just couldn't. The only thing he could do was holding himself together so that the tears didn't turn into outright sobbing. It was idiotic to overreact like that, he knew, but he couldn't help himself.

 _Stress_ , he tried to diagnose his untypical reaction. _Fear of being seen as a failure. Fear of…_

Being seen as what he was. So broken that instead of hand in hand they'd walked arm in arm when the damn reporter had found them.

"Stephen? Come back to me, please. You're scaring me."

Tony's voice sounded as if he was far away. Stephen opened his eyes - he didn't even remember closing them - to find Tony still right in front of him, one hand around his right wrist, holding it in a reassuringly tight grip while tracking his pulse, the other was on his face, wiping the tears away.

"Sorry," he whispered as he forced himself to lift his head enough to look Tony into the eyes. "I don't know…"

"Shhh, I know."

He didn't resist when Tony drew him into an embrace. He could feel himself relax just a bit, surprised at how tense he'd been. He hadn't even noticed. Just like he hadn't noticed that the tremors in his hands were worse than usual before the asshole reporter had pointed it out.

This time the tears were ones of gratefulness. "I," he began but Tony shushed him again. He should be annoyed by that but couldn't find the energy. From one second to the next he couldn't find any energy at all. "What...?"

"Hey, shhh. It's okay. You're just crashing. Sorry. I knew I shouldn't have dragged you out today but the weather was so nice and I wanted to get you a bit of sun and fresh air before the inevitable."

"Crashing?" he repeated dully, felling himself slipping away a little bit more with every breath.

"Baby, you've been running on fumes for days now. Don't think that I didn't notice you escaping into your astrology form to skip sleep while your body rests next to me."

"Astral form," he corrected automatically, despite not even really comprehending what Tony had said.

"Yeah, what I said. You, yourself, told me that that's a bad idea long term. Your mind needs rest too, Stephen, remember?"

Oh. That might explain the dizziness he'd felt this morning when he got up. "I'm," _sorry_ he wanted to say but Tony put a finger on his lips to silence him.

"Don't. You're not and we both know it. You're only sorry that you got caught." Tony softened his words with a smile and a kiss. "Not that I have any ground to stand on there. So you're forgiven."

He didn't have an answer to that. Now, that he actually knew what was up with him, he just wanted to sleep. Just normal, boring sleep. Ten hours or more sounded nice. Not that he could. "I don't need your forgiveness," he eventually mumbled. How often had it been _him_ who had dragged Tony away from one project or another for a few hours of sorely needed rest?

He got a grin for that. "You have it anyway." Tony leaned up a little to kiss him on the tip of his nose. Stephen frowned but it was more because it was expected of him than true annoyance. "Let me pack you off to bed. You're swaying and not in a sexy way. I want my intelligent and _coherent_ boyfriend back, you know? The exhausted mess is not a look that suits you, you know?"

"Tony," he tried to put a warning edge into this voice but instead it came out as a whine. He winced, not only internally.

"Stephen," Tony parroted back in the exact same tone. "Sweetheart," he added much softer and took the shaking ruin of his hands between his own steady ones. "You're at the end of your endurance. Your loss of countenance at the reporter showed that clearly. I never want to see that look on your face again and I'm willing to buy off or blast away each and every reporter if necessary. I would have started right there and then if you hadn't held me back." He raised their joined hands to kiss Stephen's scarred fingers. "Let go of whatever's been eating you alive for the past week."

As if it was that easy. Ever since he'd woken up from that horrible nightmare that _might_ have been a premonition he couldn't rest. His mind was in overdrive, his body caught in a permanent state of high alert, ready to fight or flight at the slightest provocation…

_Shit._

All things considered the reporter's question had been rather harmless, really. There was no reason, apart from exhaustion, for his rage or the new wave of self-hatred that threatened to engulf him whenever he caught a glimpse of his own hands or let himself consciously feel the permanent ache in them.

"Shh. Come back to me, baby. You're doing it again."

Tony took his right hand and splayed it over his heart, a gesture born out of long familiarity. Feeling the strong but slightly irregular heartbeat always calmed Stephen down. He spread out his fingers by instinct, feeling the heavy scar tissue beneath Tony's shirt.

Tony's voice and words might be calm but his heartbeat betrayed his worry, just like always.

"Breathe," Tony instructed him, just like Stephen had taught him months ago. "Stay with me. Don't go where I can't follow."

A familiar plea, said by both of them at various times when the other was in the midst of an anxiety attack.

He blinked and forced himself to match his breathing to the regular rise and fall of Tony's chest.

"Yeah, that's it. Come on. Just breathe and follow me. Close your eyes if you can. I've got you."

He was still dizzy, Stephen realized to his surprise. He was also cold and shivering. He'd put his mind under so much stress that it had translated to his body and now both of them were rebelling against the abuse.

_Fuck._

It had been a while since he'd pushed himself that far beyond his limits. Not even once since he'd gotten together with Tony.

"Sorry," he whispered again; despite his best intentions. He kept his eyes open, too afraid of what he might see if the closed them.

Tony did him the favor of not responding, apart from a gentle squeeze around his waist, before he led him towards the bedroom that was quickly becoming _theirs_ instead of just Stephen's.

"I want to," he started as they came into the room but Tony quickly shook his head.

"No. No shower. No quick peek at this book or that scroll and you," he leaned towards the Cloak, "will _not_ enable him, capisce?"

The Cloak just nodded its assent and pushed Stephen none too gently towards the bed.

Fucking traitor. Not that he would change even one fiber of magical fabric but it was always annoying when the Cloak and Tony ganged up against him.

"I had a premonition," he said. There were a myriad of excuses and demands on his tongue but it was the truth that slipped out. He really was at the end of his rope. "A bad one," he quickly clarified.

"Yeah, I got that." Tony sounded resigned instead of surprised or scared. "Not much else that gets you worked up like that these days." He tapped Stephen's temple. "Finally ready to talk about what's going on in there? Or are you still stubbornly clinging to the fading hope that you'll figure it out on your own?"

Indignation tried to rise up but Stephen ruthlessly beat it back down. Tony was right after all and he'd learned the hard way that hiding from him brought nothing but pain and anger to both of them. He forgot that lesson over and over again, as he'd just proven. Fucking idiot.

"Not yet," he answered. "Give me a little bit more time…" He didn't know enough. Not yet. Hence is frantic research in every waking and what was supposed his resting minutes.

"At least I don't have to be afraid of you having someone on the side. I would be worried with anyone but you." Tony's smile was forced but still somehow genuine. "Or am I supposed to be jealous of books now?"

"Only if you like giving me a headache. That's all they've been doing, I'm afraid."

Tony snorted at that. "Thanks for implying that I never gave you one. I know it's not true but it's a nice sentiment anyway." He sat Stephen down on the bed and kept him there with both hands on his shoulders. "So, no shower, no books, just sleep. _Real_ sleep. What do you need to get that? Tea? A cozy blanket?" The Cloak billowed up indignantly at that and Tony grinned at it. "You get everything apart from alcohol and milk. Warm milk is nasty and I refuse to smell it."

The quiet "just you" slipped out without conscious thought on Stephen's part, just as his eyes closed without his consent.

A long silence, followed by a very quiet "Stephen?" There was no trace of the humor from before in Tony's voice.

Stephen reacted with some sort of sound that didn't even try to be a word. Tony gave a sigh. "Don't get scared. I'm going to touch you now to get you down because you're falling asleep sitting up."

The warning was a good one because instead of being startled and tensing up he could relax into Tony's hand when it appeared on the back of his neck to stabilize his head.

"That's good, baby. Just relax and let me do the work. A little help please?" The words must have been meant for the Cloak because Stephen could feel it wrapping itself around his torso before it carefully lowered him down while Tony supported his neck all the way.

"Isn't that better? You even come equipped with your own blanket, how nice. Anything else you need? Apart from your comfort cloak and about five days of sleep?"

Stephen somehow found the strength for a word. "Stay," he begged and raised his hand against the Cloak's hold to keep Tony from moving away. _Please._ "Don't go", he added. Some part of him recognized the nonsense he was saying and flinched but there was nothing he could do against it now.

"Never," Tony promised and he could feel Tony sitting down beside him. Gentle fingers touched first his temple and then his forehead. "I wish I knew what's going on in that pretty head of yours," he confessed quietly. "Couldn't it just a be a _little bit_ emptier? I wish I could help you battle whatever demons are inside there."

Stephen let the words wash over him, committing them to memory without really understanding them. Tony and the Cloak were here, safe with him. For the moment, that was enough.

It had to be.

*

 _You do_ , he realized some undeterminable time later when he woke up with strong arms around his torso, his head on Tony's left shoulder and his left hand positioned right over Tony's heart. _You help me every day._

He slipped away again while his fingers were busy tracing the scar tissue on Tony's chest.

He never knew that he'd spoken the words out loud, never saw the pure delight they caused, but he felt the kiss Tony pressed against his forehead and incorporated it into his dreams.

He was still smiling when he woke up for real the next morning, the first ideas of how to tackle the premonition problem already forming in his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I put the lovley anon prompt that inspired this at the end because I wandered so far away from it that I didn't want to kindle false hope of this being anything else than what it is:
> 
> _One time someone (a reporter, maybe, who cares) insulted Stephen’s hands, and made the mistake of doing that in front of Tony. Stephen had to physically drag Tony away to keep him from blasting that person to ash, because “damn it Tony, I will not allow you to kill someone for such a stupid reason!”_
> 
> *hangs head in shame* I can't escape my love for hurt/comfort, sorry.
> 
> Who caught the tiny Hannibal reference I couldn't resist including? 😉
> 
> [@](https://amethyst-noir.tumblr.com/post/612044594967871488/the-obvious-fact-that-scars-remain-and-how-to)


End file.
